There’s a ringing bouncing against the walls of the cellar of my brain,
Trapped forever where immortality will never permit an escape,
There’s a blind man within me,
Smiling while sighing through a silent movie,
There’s a little deaf girl in my mind,
Curled in a dark room shaking to the thundering bass,
This is the ignorance soaking my brain,
But I find that I am an infant in a pub,
Mother is nothing but a young pup,
But she has a loud bark and knows enough not to bite,
And my father is resting in his bed of dirt,
As he lacked the hero to match his heroine,
There’s a monk at a cocktail party,
Humming chants to himself,
While tracing the split of her skirt to the split in his soul,
There an atheist in a church,
Praying to something big,
For his lover who evaporated with a bang,
And a pacifist who sits in his one bedroom in Compton,
Soaking in the red rain,
And there’s an anarchist preaching on the highway,
Shouting the ways of yin and yang,
But this is not ignorance,
This is the epitome of competence,
The ability to analyze pain,
This is the love and fear in my soul,
A blind man and a deaf girl in my conversing in my brain,
A monk holding the hand of an atheist in my heart that is pumping,
The raging of hope and hatred,
Through my veins